Page 63 of My Scot, My Surrender
He inhaled sharply as her fingernails grazed gently over his nipples once more. “I don’t think—”
“Then don’t think. At least not right now,” Sorcha whispered, her lips so close to Brandt’s earlobe that she could not help but dart her tongue out to taste it. “How does this feel?”
He made a grating noise in his throat before clamping his hands down upon both of her wrists. “Dangerous,” he said, his voice slightly hitched.
Brandt held her so firmly that she’d instinctively arched backward before she relaxed into him, letting her breasts come to rest against his shoulders as she’d craved doing earlier. The scent of his warmed skin wafted into her nostrils, and she inhaled deeply. Her mouth watered, and her nipples ached from under the confines of her bodice. Once more, she gave in to the inclination to taste him, scraping her teeth along the column of his throat beneath his ear. His body jerked as Sorcha lapped and nibbled her way down his neck, while her trapped fingertips scoured the shelved muscle of his torso. She wanted to taste every heated inch of him.
“We both seem to tempt danger,” she whispered into his ear. “Don’t we?”
“Why are you doing this?”
She tried to be as blasé and as self-possessed as he had been with her. “It’s just pleasure, Brandt. Nothing more. Let me do this for you.”
In response, he angled his chin upward and caught her lips with his. The kiss was dark and carnal, his hot mouth clinging to hers. A moan escaped her as his tongue delved deep in search of hers, finding it and coaxing it between his teeth until her knees felt like rubber. Her fingernails scraped gently against his taut chest, and the low fierce growl in his throat made her wild. Sorcha kissed him back just as fiercely. Just as possessively.
Still gripping her fingers, Brandt released her mouth and her hands and drew her around the side of the chair. The heavy-lidded look in his eyes made every drop of blood burn in Sorcha’s veins and turn to liquid fire between her hips. God, one scorching glance from him was all it took to make her want to tear off her clothes and throw herself at his mercy.
“Sorcha, we both know where this road leads.”
Brandt’s words were at odds with his eyes and the thumb insistently stroking over her knuckles. He wanted her to resist him. As if she could do such a thing. She was hanging on to decency by the slimmest of threads, and she had no intention of walking away. Not from this. Not from him.
She licked her lips, and his eyes settled on her mouth. “Do we? Are you a savant now?”
“It is unwise,” he murmured.
“Don’t worry,leannan, your virtue will be quite safe, I promise.”
Brandt chuckled as Sorcha made the decision for him and sat in his lap. He was aroused. Impressively so. He groaned as she wriggled against him, the rigid length of his erection settling in between the gap of her thighs. This time, slowly, teasingly, she leaned forward to catch his mouth with hers. His eyes darkened as her tongue slipped out, licking the inside of his upper lip before biting gently upon his full lower one.
Brandt’s arms banded around her, pulling her flush to his chest, and he took her mouth with a ravenous, uncontrolled hunger. A pulse of worry wicked through her. Not worry exactly…more like breathless thrill. Excitement. She had never seen him like this. Brandt had always been so controlled, so in possession of all his impulses, but now he seemed almost feral, as if driven by dark desires he no longer wanted to keep at bay. Sorcha responded in kind, biting, sucking, licking deep. And when his mouth moved to her throat, she flung her head back in abandon. She wanted him to see exactly what he did to her. She could feel his arousal beneath her, growing harder by the breath.
Cradling his head, she gasped as he massaged her breasts over her bodice. And when his fingers closed around one of the aching peaks, pinching gently, she moaned her approval. His mouth moved to her neck, trailing down in wet nudges and bites that made her senseless. The day’s growth of stubble abraded her skin deliciously as he laved and sucked her flesh. Sorcha couldn’t wait. She wanted to feel him. Lifting her weight slightly, she slipped her hand beneath her legs to close around him.
Brandt tore his mouth from her skin, his stormy eyes darting to hers when her fingers gripped the thick length of him through his trousers. Without taking her eyes from his, she slipped off his lap and onto her knees, wedging herself between his parted legs.
“Sorcha…” he said in a hoarse voice, his hand falling on top of hers at his groin. The hard flesh beneath her hot fingertips jumped.
“Let me,” she whispered.
After a searching look, Brandt lifted his hand. He was just as lost to passion as she was. Perhaps more so. And Sorcha wanted nothing more than for him to lose every bit of himself in pleasure. Briskly, she undid the fastenings to the fall of his buckskins. She’d felt him against her at the river, caressed him in her palm, but nothing prepared her for the proudly erect sight of him. He was beautiful and so devastatingly masculine, it took her breath away. Sorcha swallowed hard as her fingers cautiously encircled his girth. He was thick and warm and heavy in her grip, his body pulsing in hot, powerful surges.
“Bloody hell, Sorcha,” Brandt swore, clutching the sides of the armchair with brute force.
Suddenly, she was gripped by a paralyzing anxiety. Brandt’s face was contorted, his jaw clamped tightly and eyes screwed shut. In pleasure? In pain? Was she hurting him? She had no idea what she was doing. He’d liked her massage before. Perhaps it would be the same for this part of his body. With a tentative motion, she rolled her fingers along the shaft, pressing gently, trying to gauge his reaction. Brandt’s eyes flew open, dilated, and a muscle hammered to life in his cheek.
“Do you like this?” she asked.
“Yes,” he gasped, one hand reaching out to cover hers. He stroked hers up and down from base to tip, and then back again. “Like so.”
She was an apt student. Once she got a rhythm going, his hand fell away, and indistinct sounds of pleasure left his lips. Emboldened by her success and his response, Sorcha dragged her thumb over the rounded blunt end of him, fascinated by the pearl of moisture she found there. His skin was boiling hot, so sleek and silky hard that she couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to him.
Brandt almost bucked out of his seat as his entire body shuddered.
“You don’t have to do that,” he gritted out.
But she wanted it. Sorcha wanted to bring him the same bliss he’d given her. She opened her mouth and took him inside. Her husband’s growl was primal and bestial. It made lust explode within her with the force of a thousand stars. She drew him deeper, teasing the ridge with her tongue, testing him, learning the shape of him. His spicy male scent made her dizzy, and his smooth, salted taste made her mouth water. She wanted to swallow every delectable inch of him.
Sorcha almost laughed. It was nigh impossible to fit all of him in her mouth, but she was determined to try. Using her hands and her mouth in unison, she delighted in the moans and coarse words that emerged from his lips as she continued her exploration…licking here and nibbling there. Watching to see how his body responded. Every muscle on his stomach clenched, his legs like stone on either side of her. She reveled in her power over him. Heat pooled between her legs as his breathing grew more ragged, his hips rolling upward into her mouth at a faster pace. She knew what it signaled from the last time he’d rocked frantically against her at the river. His release was close.
